Seeking revenge
by electricnats
Summary: This is a Kurtis story, and this is how I think things went for him during the AoD. Rated for violence and swearing.
1. Waiting and waiting

Author Disclaimer: Not mine, ok? Only the plot...Yes, there IS a plot.....belongs to me...Kinda. I borrowed the events from the AoD game, but I am writing it how I think it went for our beloved Mr. Trent. Though I'm warning you that some things may have been altered slightly. Just thought I'd say that. I don't want any die-hard TR fans to sue me because I didn't stick EXACTLY to the story. Not that they'd get anything anyway. I'm broke....Again. ¬_¬  
  
Chapter one- Waiting......And waiting......And yet more waiting.....  
  
The man named Kurtis Trent sat in a corner of the seedy brasserie, Cafe Metro. Kurtis was a tall man, his cropped raven black hair framing his solemn face, with two startlingly blue eyes which seemed to bore into a person's mind if they dared to peer into their depth. He glanced lazily at the cafe owner before returning to the French newspaper which was open on the table infront of him. Kurtis sighed wearily. Why was he even bothering? He didn't understand a word of French, and considering all of them knew English, what was the point in learning it anyway? A soft clearing of a throat brought Kurtis to his senses. He looked up at the cafe owner, Pierre, who was regarding him through heavy-lidded eyes. Pierre was a skinny man of about thirty. He had a pale, sickly face, and always wore an expression of one who has just heard something unamusing.  
"Yeah?" Kurtis said, smirking a little as the Frenchman flinched at his outburst.  
"I was only coming to ask you if you wanted anything." Pierre said, regaining his confidence.  
"Oh in that case," Kurtis began, "You bring me a coffee."  
"Very well." Pierre scuttled off and began to prepare the drink. Moments later, he came back, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.  
"Thanks." Kurtis gave him a whimsical smile and returned to the non- readable paper, expecting Pierre to resume his cafe duties. But when he heard no sound of retreating feet, he looked up and saw that the cafe owner perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, his eyes fixed on Kurtis. He did this for some time before speaking slowly and thoughtfully.  
"You've been in here all day. Most people come in here, have a drink, then leave again." Pierre said incredulously. "But not you. Who are you waiting for?"  
"No-one." Came the sullen reply. But Pierre wasn't easily put off.  
"Oh really? Then what are you up to? I would have thrown you out long ago..."  
"Then why didn't you?"  
"Because you provide business." Pierre said simply. Kurtis rolled his eyes. "So I ignored anything which appeared to be a little suspicious." He continued, studying Kurtis closely. "What are you up to?"  
"Nothing which concerns you." Kurtis said coolly.  
"It concerns me if it involves trouble on my premises." Pierre retorted.  
"Look." Kurtis said, trying to remain calm. "How much do I have to pay you to shut it?" Pierre shrugged.  
"Depends."  
"Ok." Kurtis reached for his wallet and pulled out several bank notes. "There. One hundred and sixty Euros." He held them out towards Pierre. Pierre made to grab them, but Kurtis closed his fingers around the notes and drew his hand back. "Not so fast." He said, looking the man in the eyes. "If you let alone, you keep the money." Pierre nodded fervently. "If you DON'T," Kurtis continued, "Then rest assured you will get something you didn't expect. Understand?"  
"Of course, of course..." Pierre said, eyeing the money in Kurtis's hand.  
"Good." Kurtis uncurled his fingers and held out his hand towards Pierre. Pierre snatched the money greedily off his outstretched palm and began thumbing through the notes, counting them. The phone rang. Pierre muttered a hurried 'Merci' before dashing off to answer it.  
"It was no problem....Anything to shut that goddamn schmooze up." Kurtis spat. He let his eyes wander to the window on his left and stared out onto the deserted Parisian street. "C'mon Ms. Croft." He muttered, glancing up at the tasteless diner clock hanging above the counter. "God.....Nearly eight hours I've been sat on my ass waiting.." He rubbed his temples and staredat the Renault Clio car advert. "Va Va Voom?" He said, frowning. "God. The French are weirder than I thought." Kurtis shrugged and flicked through the relationships section, a small sneer forming on his lips. The bell rang as the cafe door was opened. Kurtis's head snapped up immediately. A tall woman with long, dark brown hair and wearing jeans and a jean jacket was making her way towards Pierre. "That's her." Kurtis said under his breath. "That's the Croft lady." He listened intently to her conversation with Pierre, though it was hard work trying to make out what she was saying- She was obviously making an effort to keep her voice down. Pierre on the other hand, clearly had no volume control what-so-ever, and continued talking in his loud drawl, much to the annoyance of Croft, and to Kurtis's advantage.  
"I'm looking for Louis Bouchard." Lara said, glancing around the cafe. Her eyes fell upon Kurtis and she whirled around again, lowering her voice further still. "I want to know where I can find him." Louis Bouchard? Kurtis made a mental note of that name. Maybe he could help locate Eckhardt. After hearing all he needed to, Kurtis lost interest in the conversation- He would askPierre about this Bouchard once Ms. Croft had gone on her way. He kept watch on the two of them whilst pretending to read the paper. Within five minutes, Lara had finished and left the cafe. This was his cue to get moving. He stood, threw a few coins onto the table and headed towards the counter where Pierre stood.  
"So this Louis Bouchard," Kurtis began, "Who is he exactly?" Pierre looked uneasily around the cafe.  
"Well...He...Uh..."  
"I'm waiting."  
"He's a Parisian crime lord. He runs Le Serpent Rouge, you know, the club."  
"Right. And I'll find him there?" Pierre fell silent. "And I'll find him there?" Kurtis repeated, losing his patience with the man.  
"Well...Uh...." Pierre said, wiping his hands on his apron.  
"Will I?!" Kurtis said, reaching for the Boran X at his side.  
"No!" Pierre said hurridly, "No you won't."  
"Ok. Then where?"  
"I....I don't know..."  
"Oh come on..." Kurtis snarled, pulling the Boran X out of it's holster and toying with it, absent-mindedly.  
"No really....I don't know..." Pierre squeaked, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Kurtis stopped, and lent in towards Pierre.  
"Are you sure?" There was a click of a reloading gun, and very soon Pierre felt the cold barrel of the Boran X pressed to his head, right between the eyes.  
"Yes...Yes I'm sure!"  
"Well in that case...You leave me no choice, Pierre." Kurtis's finger tightened on the trigger.  
"No wait!" Pierre said pleadingly. "I know someone who will know where to find him."  
"Now that's more like it." Kurtis said, a small smirk playing on his lips. "So who knows where to find Bouchard then?"  
"The red lady....Janice..." Pierre said, his voice shaking a little. "She is on the corner near Le Serpent Rouge. You can't miss her." Clearly satisfied, Kurtis removed the gun from Pierre's head, flicked the safety catch on and holstered it.  
"Thanks. And Pierre, if you're lying, and she doesn't know where Bouchard is, then I will come back and do what the lady who asked for him before me said she would do if she was....misled, so to speak." Kurtis turned, dashed to the door, threw it open and left, leaving a sweaty, pale- faced Pierre behind. He jumped onto his bike and sped off down the street in the direction of Le Serpent Rouge.  
The derelict club soon came into view, looming out of the dusty Parisian air like a ship-wreck rising in a storm. Pulling into a sidestreet, Kurtis hopped off the motorbike and sprinted towards the front of the club. He walked up to the huge wooden doors and began to examine them, trying to find a way in. From the shadows, a woman clad in red watched him. She rolled her eyes and took a long drag on her cigarette before throwing it to the ground and squashing it with a stiletto heel.  
"Excuse me." She began, making her way daintily towards Kurtis. He spun around to face her. "You can't get in there, you know. The place has been shut for weeks."  
"What?" He studied her closely, and took in her heavily made up face, bleach-blond hair and blood red clothes. "Oh. You must be Janice."  
"Oui. C'est moi." Janice said, nodding her head.  
"I was told you know where Bouchard is." Janice laughed.  
"Who said you that?" She asked, frowning. "I know nothing of his whereabouts."  
"A man named Pierre, at the Cafe Metro."  
"Oh him." Janice said casually, as she reached into her bag and pulled out some cigarettes. She popped one in her mouth and lit up.  
"So he lied to me then."  
"In a way, yes." She said bluntly.  
"Great." Kurtis spat bitterly on the floor. "So you know no-one who can direct me to Bouchard?"  
"Well....You can try Bernard....You can find him in the park....But...He's miserable- He doesn't co-operate that much."  
"I'm sure he will be only to glad to help once I'm through with him."  
"If you're sure..." Janice said doubtfully.  
"Yeah. I am. Thanks." Kurtis inclined his head slightly before heading back to his bike. Janice sighed and continued to smoke her cigarette.  
"Now to the park..." Kurtis said to himself as he started up the motorbike. He glanced up and saw the Croft woman again. Scowling, he revved the engine several times before speeding off down the street, leaving Lara choking on the dust.  
Pulling up outside St. Aicard's church, Kurtis leapt off the bike and made his way towards the big, wrought iron gates of the park.  
"Ok Bernard. You'd better work with me here." He muttered before pushing the gate open and stepping onto the sandy path. Sure enough, as Janice said, a man wearing a dusty brown coat was there, who Kurtis had to assume was Bernard, ex-janitor for Le Serpent Rouge. Kurtis cleared his throat loudly, and the old man shuffled around the face him.  
"What do you want?" He snapped. "Go away. I'm busy."  
"Oh really. Doing what exactly?" Kurtis said, his eyebrows raised. "To me, it looks like you're wandering around the park, doing jack-shit. Though I could be wrong. Now....I need your help."  
"Why should I help you when you give me attitude like that?" Bernard said, turning his back on Kurtis. Calmly, Kurtis reached for his trusty Boran X and removed it from it's holster, pressing it to the back of Bernard's head.  
"That is why, my friend. Now tell me, where do I find Bouchard?"  
"Underground...Deep underground...." Bernard wheezed, "In St. Aicard's graveyard."  
"Good....Now I feel as if I'm getting somewhere."  
"The statue....Of the Angel. In there."  
"Ok."  
"But you'll need to get past the doorman."  
"How?"  
"With a password."  
"Which is?" Kurtis asked, keeping the barrel of the gun pressed to Bernard's head.  
"Pluit Noir." Kurtis removed the gun and put it back in it's rightful place.  
"Thanks." Kurtis turned to go. "Oh." He faced Bernard again. "If you see that idiot Pierre around, tell him he's a dead man."  
"Uh...Very well...."  
"Good." Kurtis spun on his heel and left through the open gate. "Louis Bouchard, here I come."  
  
There! What do you think? Hopefully nothing too bad. Heh. ;) Constructive critiscism is welcomed. R&R people!! 


	2. Meeting Bouchard

Author Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine. Eh well. Thank you to my lovely reviewers, I'm glad you're enjoying this fic. ^_^ Anyways, on with the next chapter!!!  
  
Chapter 2- We're off to see the crimelord! The wonderful crimelord of Paris!  
  
Kurtis approached the burly doorman, slowly, but surely. The man lifted his head off his arm and drew himself up to his full height, observing Kurtis through dark tinted glasses. He opened his mouth to begin grilling Kurtis, but Kurtis had already uttered the password.  
"Pluit Noire." The doorman, a little surprised, stepped back and began to open the gate. Once all locks had been removed, and the barrier was agape, Kurtis stepped nimbly through it, and the doorman promtly slammed it shut again.  
"Thanks." The doorman grunted and resumed his lolling on the fence. Without further ado, Kurtis set off between the stone mausoleums. "So many dead people," He said, gazing up at one particularly large crypt. A small splashing told him that he'd trodden in something. Kurtis looked down to find his foot in a pool of vital fluid, and next to that, the stagnant body of a dog. Several bullet cases lay on the floor near it. "And dead dogs apparently." He finished. "Ms. Croft has already passed through." He headed towards a fenced area which contained several tombs, and when Kurtis studied it closer, a fallen statue of an angel. "Bingo." He rattled the gate leading into the area. "Damn. It's locked. Looks like I'm going to have to do this the less easy way." Placing one foot on one of the bars on the gate, Kurtis hoisted himself up, and began to scale the metal barrier. Carefully avoiding the metal spikes at the top, he swung a leg over the fence, and proceeded to do the same with the other once he'd found a suitable foot-hold. Once stable, Kurtis hopped off the fence and jogged towards the fallen angel statue, stopping at the edge and peering into the abyss. "Great. The sewers." He said, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of rancid waste. Sitting at the edge of the hole, Kurtis took once last look at daylight before sliding off the edge and into the black of the sewers.  
He landed rather less gracefully than he had wished, and had ended up sprawled on the floor, sending several rats scurrying off down the tunnel, squeaking in terror. Picking himself up, Kurtis drew his Boran X from his side, took aim and shot one of the vermin. Calmly, he replaced the gun and began to head down the tunnel after the remaining rats. He rounded a corner and found himself at the edge of another pit. He began to tackle this in very much the same way he had done with the fence, only reversed, climbing slowly down the ivy which was clinging to the bricks. At the bottom, Kurtis gazed around, trying to find an alternative route to climbing up the ivy on the other side, and he found one- A largish hole in the wall partially hidden by hanging plantlife. Crouching down, Kurtis managed to crawl through the hole, dislodging several spiders in the process. Casually flicking them away, he stood up and headed through the passage, reaching the exit- Another hole covered with ivy. Again, Kurtis crouched and shuffled through the hole, only to find himself in another pit. "Ok. Bouchard obviously doesn't like visitors." He shrugged, climbed the ivy and out of the pit. Following the path around, he came to yet ANOTHER pit, this time filled with water. "Shit. How many more of these things to I have to go through?" Kurtis swore, eyeing the murky water suspiciously. "Oh...Well here goes nothin'." He took a deep breath and plunged into the muddy brown pool. Kurtis narrowed his eyes to slits and started to swim forwards, avoiding the floating pond weed like the plague. Eventually he reached the other side, and surfaced, gasping for air, his hair plastered to his face. Kurtis clambered up the wall and sat on the edge of the pool. Unholstering his Boran X, he proceeded to check it to see if it had been damaged by the water, which, by the end of the check, he found that it hadn't. Smoothing the hair off his face, he stood and walked carefully down the corridor. He wasn't sure if there'd be any other pitfalls awaiting him, and he certainly wasn't going to run around like a headless chicken to find out whether there was or not.  
After much jumping and swimming, Kurtis arrived in an area which resembled a hospital ward, only not as clean. Mould grew on the walls and water dripped from the ceiling. There was a screen in the cell, shielding something which was making a low, moaning sound. Unnerved, Kurtis drew his Boran X and sneaked towards the screen. He peered around the curtain, and what he saw made him yell in surprise. There was a man on the bed, horribly mutated by something, and he was writhing in pain, making the same, sticky sounding moaning as before.  
"What the hell is that thing?!" He said, a look of pure disgust on his face.  
"Poor Arnaud....." Someone said from behind him. Kurtis wheeled around to face the owner of the voice. A stocky man of around fourty stood before him, wearing a rather expensive looking leather jacket, a solid gold watch sparkling at his wrist. Kurtis didn't need telling who this was, the clothes spoke themselves. This was Louis Bouchard, the Parisian crimelord.  
"What happened to him?" Kurtis asked, clearly too appalled to begin demanding Eckhardt's whereabouts.  
"You're the second person to have stumbled upon Arnaud, and the both have you have asked the same question." Bouchard stated.  
"I know. Ms. Croft has already payed you a visit, though I'm sure it was for an entirely different reason." Kurtis waved the hand holding the Boran X in the direction of Arnaud. "So what happened to him?"  
"Monstrum attack. Only one to have survived." Bouchard said mournfully, looking at the helpless figure of Arnaud on the bed. "One of my toughest....." He fell silent.  
"And no-one knows how it happened?" Bouchard shook his head.  
"I would ask Arnaud that, but he cannot talk anymore." This statement was aided by another series of gurgling noises from Arnaud, and Bouchard turned and swept out of the room. Kurtis followed him, only too glad to get away from the monster lying on the bed. Bouchard returned to his underground office, and seated himself in a large, leather chair by the fire. "You said you came for a different reason to the woman. Care to explain?"  
"One word for ya, buddy. Eckhardt. Mean anything to you?"  
"No. I can't say it does." Bouchard said, carelessly flicking a speck of dust off the arm of the chair.  
"You sure? You don't look as if you mean that." Kurtis said, stepping forward, holding the Boran X out in front of him, keeping it trained on Bouchard.  
"I can't say I know this man." Bouchard said coolly. "Sorry that I was no help to you."  
"You will be sorry." Kurtis snarled as he leapt for the man in the chair, but a click told him that he should go no further. Bouchard was on his feet, a revolver in his hand. He pulled Kurtis towards him and pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple. Kurtis did the same, pressing the barrel of the Boran X to Bouchard's temple, his finger poised and ready on the trigger. For a moment they glared at each other.  
"I know nothing, alright!" Bouchard snapped, lowering the revolver and pushing Kurtis roughly away.  
"Alright!" Kurtis spat, as he made his way towards the open door at the end of the room, eyes fixed on Bouchard, gun in hand, ready. "Take it easy." Glancing back at Bouchard one last time, Kurtis sprinted through the door and up the stairs. "Lying asshole." He said, his voice full of venom. At the top, he found himself in what used to be a church, now a boxing center. "Now to deal with another lying asshole." Kurtis said, holstering the gun and began making his way past the training boxers to the exit.  
Out on the street, Kurtis found the place where he had left his bike, and to his amazement, it was still there. "And I thought Paris had a high crime rate...." He hopped onto the motorcycle, started the engine and roared off down the street in the direction of Cafe Metro. Pulling up ouside the brasserie, Kurtis jumped off the bike and burst into the cafe, Boran X drawn and loaded.  
Pierre looked up and paled at the sight of the gun-wielding Kurtis.  
"N-N-Now see here...." He stuttered, backing up against the wall in terror.  
"You lied asshole. I don't like people who lie."  
"B-But..." Pierre said, shaking from head to toe.  
"No buts Pierre. You lied to me. Face it."  
"So you didn't find Bouchard then?"  
"I did, but only after I was directed to yet another person, wasting yet more time trying to get information out of him!" He snarled.  
"And was Bouchard able to help you?" Pierre asked, dabbing his sweaty brow with a dish-cloth.  
"No, as a matter of fact, he wasn't. He lied too. I know that he has heard of Eckhardt, he just wasn't co-operating."  
"T-That's really too bad..."  
"Yeah. It was. And I guess this is really too bad as well. Too bad for you at least. Goodbye Pierre." Kurtis took aim and fired. The shot hit Pierre directly in the chest. He doubled up, a hand pressed to where the bullet had entered his body. Pretty soon, a river of crimson was trickling over his fingers. Pierre sank to the floor, gasping for air, leaving a trail of blood on the yellow wall. Kurtis leapt onto the bar and hopped down near the dying Pierre. Pierre looked up at him. Kurtis knelt beside him, and pressed the gun to Pierre's temple and pulled the trigger once more. Little droplets of blood splattered across Kurtis's face, and he watched the man slump, lifeless to the floor, twisted like some grotesque rag-doll. Kurtis stood, and headed towards the male washroom. Once inside, he cleaned the blood off his face and hands, ready to face the outside world again. He made his way towards the door when he heard the familiar tinkling of the bell. Someone had come into the cafe. Kurtis pressed his ear to the wooden door.  
"Pierre?" He could faintly hear a woman's voice calling the dead cafe owner's name. "Pierre? Vous ici?" The clicking of stiletto heels ment that the woman was crossing the tiled floor. It was only a matter of time before she discovered the body. "Ce qui-?" A piercing scream cut through the silence. The clicking of heels began again and then the tinkling of the bell was heard. The woman had obviously run to get help.  
"Time to move." Kurtis said to himself. He glanced around the washroom and spotted a window at the other end of the room. It was quite high up, though Kurtis was sure he could reach it. Dashing to the end cubical, Kurtis threw open the door and climbed onto the seat, and then the system. Unlocking the window by flicking the catch up, he pushed it open as far as it would go. Kurtis stuck his head out and checked that the coast was clear, which it was. Withdrawing his head back inside the building, Kurtis reached up and grabbed the edges of the cubical and jumped, swinging his legs through the window. He let go of the edges and slipped through, unharmed.  
Standing in the dim light of the backstreet, Kurtis glanced back down towards the cafe entrance. Police sirens could be heard in the near distance- Before long, armed policemen would be swarming the area. "Looks like I'm gonna have to forefit retrieving my bike now. I'll get it later..." He thought. He turned and jogged up the sidestreet towards the river, unaware of someone watching him.  
  
Whee!! My first cliffie! Whoot! Lol. Hope you guys like it. R&R please! I'll love you forever! ^_^ 


	3. Avertir!

Author Disclaimer: Kurtis Trent ain't mine, a'ight?! But (!), I do, however, own Inspector Claude Reynolds. Whoot! Lol. Francine, Pierre's ex doesn't belong to me either.  
  
Chapter 3: Avertir! (Caution!)  
  
Sat in the now bustling Cafe Metro was a woman who was gazing down at the tiled floor, her short brown hair forming a curtain around her face, hiding her red-rimmed eyes from the police officer sat opposite her. Policemen and coroners kept leaving, then entering again, bringing more equipment from the vans parked outside. Cameras flashed as pictures were taken of Pierre's lifeless form.  
"Take your time, Mlle Priest." Inspector Reynolds said, breaking the silence between the two of them. "And tell me everything you know." Francine nodded and looked up at the man.  
"Well," She began, wiping her eyes with a sodden tissue, "I came round here to give Pierre some of his things back- Mainly books that he'd lent me and I had forgotten to return. When I got to the cafe, it seemed deadly quiet..." Francine paused, and glanced up at the clock. "Even more so than usual." She added. Reynolds motioned for her to continue whilst making notes in a leather-bound notebook. "So I came inside, and found that Pierre had gone. I was curious- Pierre NEVER left the cafe, not even in emergencies." Reynolds raised an eyebrow. "He didn't like to leave it unattended." Francine explained. The inspector nodded again.  
"And so he wasn't there...." He prompted.  
"Or so I thought....I looked over at the wall, and saw the.....the.....the blood," Francine said, her hands shaking violently as she spoke. "I was dreading what I would see if I crossed over towards the bar.....But I went.....and what I had been fearing was true...." She stifled a sob, and pressed the tissue to her eyes again. Irritated by her blubbering, Reynolds began his questions.  
"Did you see anything around the cafe which isn't normally there?" Francine began to shake her head, then stopped.  
"Actually.....I did..."  
"Well? What was it?" Claude Reynolds snapped.  
"A motorbike.....Quite old looking. Green. Had big silver wing mirrors."  
"You mean the one that is parked outside now?" Francine nodded. "So it didn't belong to Pierre then?"  
"No......He didn't like anything that travelled at great speed...." Reynolds motioned to a policeman standing nearby.  
"Check the motorbike outside. Get all the details you can about it, then try and trace the owner." The policeman nodded and left. Inspector Reynolds turned back to Francine. "Right. Anything else? A person perhaps?" Francine nodded again. Reynolds couldn't believe his luck. Maybe he was finally going to catch a criminal, a dangerous one at that, and thus wiping that smile off old Montague's face. Containing his excitement, he pressed on. "And what was this person like?"  
"I couldn't really see much. But I know it was a man. Quite tall. Dark haired."  
"Good.....good..." Reynolds said, scribbling eagerly away. "Facial features? Clothes?"  
"I couldn't see.....He was standing down the alley next to the cafe. The one leading to the river."  
"Alright. Thank you Mlle. Priest. Your information will be a lot of use to us." Reynolds stood, took one last look at Francine and swept out of the cafe. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sneaking past the dozing guard who was clearly supposed to be keeping a look out for unwanted persons, Kurtis made his way towards the moored boats.  
"Sleeping like a baby....." Kurtis sneered, as the guard gave a loud snore. He found himself a deserted barge on which he could sit and wait for the cover of dark so he could retrieve the bike. Kurtis wrinkled his nose- The barge stank of rotting fish, and then there was the rancid background smell of the sewers mixed with it. "God....Paris has to be the worst smelling city in the universe." He muttered to himself. Kurtis squatted down, pulled out a cigarette from his pack and lit up. A low rumbling noise from somewhere over the other side of the river made him look up. Kurtis frowned. "What the-?" He began. A stream of fire was making it's way down a tunnel, and when Kurtis looked closer, he could see that there was a person sprinting away from it. "Ms Croft?" With a loud bang, the tunnel exploded, propelling the figure forwards in a cloud of smoke and flame. The body landed hard on the deck of another barge, and without her curtain of smoke and fire, Kurtis could clearly see that it was indeed Lara Croft. He made a soft clicking sound with his tongue. "Ms. Croft....Really. Getting yourself into trouble like that...." He watched her pick herself up, and then go sprinting off in the direction of the Louvre. Grabbing the cigarette from his mouth between thumb and forefinger, he flicked it, and it soared into the air before meeting a watery grave. Calmly, he walked off of the barge and back into the ship yard. As Kurtis passed him, the guard opened one eye sleepily. Spotting Kurtis, he opened the other and stared blearily at him.  
"Oi!" He called, "Oi you!" Kurtis stopped. "Yes! You!" The guard said, wiping his eyes. Smiling eerily, Kurtis walked over to the guard, like a dog following it's master. "What are you doing here?" The guard asked, blinking far more times than any normal person would. Kurtis remained silent. "Well?!" The guard pressed on, looking (or rather blinking) at Kurtis expectantly.  
"Just a dream....." Kurtis said in what he hoped was a convincing, dream-like voice. "It's all just a dream....."  
"Oh right." The guard said stupidly. Kurtis nodded and began to slowly make his way around to the back of the guard's chair, on the look out for any heavy objects. A large pile of rocks lay on the floor near some rope. "Great." Kurtis thought, edging nearer to the rocks. He crouched, grabbed the nearest one and stood up again.  
"Sweet dreams!" He said, leaping behind the man and bringing the rock down onto his head. The man slumped unconcious to the floor. "What an idiot." Kurtis said, shaking his head in total disbelief. He looked up to the sky- Darkness was now almost upon Paris, with just a faint sliver of sunlight just peeking over the horizon. "Darkness is here- Time to get the bike." Casting one last glance at the unconcious guard, Kurtis turned and left the docks, heading towards the Cafe Metro, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the Police.  
Kurtis turned into the familiar side-street which ran along side Cafe Metro. Taking care to keep quiet, Kurtis crept along in the cover of the shadow and peered around the corner of the building. He had to keep himself from crying out loud, for his motorbike that he loved so dearly had gone. Making sure the coast was clear, Kurtis cautiously stepped out into the open and stared at the spot where the motorbike had rested. Police tape fluttered weakly against the door, like a moth at a window, beating it's wings, trying to break the glass. Kurtis swore under his breath. The police had obviously taken his bike as some kind of evidence, and there was no way he would be able to get it back......Well, not just yet anyway. Still muttering obscenities, Kurtis headed towards Le Serpent Rouge, taking a more discrete route than he would have done if he wasn't being hunted down by the Police, even if it did involve several flights of stairs.  
Once at the bottom of these steps, Kurtis peered into the pitch black. Janice the Red Lady had disappeared- "Obviously doing one of her clients." Kurtis thought as he stifled a yawn. Passing through the door beside Le Serpent Rouge, he headed for the derelict Metro cart, also known as Hobo Central.  
"Spare any change Mister?" The cry for money followed Kurtis as he made his way towards the train. He just ignored them, pretending not to have heard them. The odd one or two grabbed at his legs, but he shook them off, leaving them lying in the dust, yelling insults at him.  
Eventually he reached the train, and exhausted, Kurtis clambered into it, found a reletively clean seat and lay down. "Tomorrow, the Louvre." He thought sleepily, as he closed his eyes, shutting out the faint light from the tramp's fires. Within minutes, Kurtis Trent was fast asleep and dreaming, rather like (or unlike) the guard at the docks.  
  
Sorry. This was totally uneventful. You get that with chapters. Next one I PROMISE will be a good one. Wahey! The Louvre. More sneaking. And things will be revealed to our dear Mr. Trent. Hehehe. R&R please m'dears. You can have....uh....Gum! *holds out gum for all* Better than cookies I think you'll agree. ^_~ 


	4. A discovery at the Louvre

Author Disclaimer: What? You expected things to have changed since the last chapter?! Nope, sorry to disappoint you, but Kurtis Trent still isn't mine. Dammit. Neither is Lara Croft or Marten Gundersen for that matter. But I DO own Hulot, the shipyard's dozy watchman. ^_~ I feel privileged. Lol. Well. I've FINALLY decided to update this, I hope you'll enjoy it. :) Louvre time!  
  
Chapter 4- A discovery at the Louvre.  
  
Sun streamed in through the dusty glass of the metro car, heating the air inside, rather like a greenhouse. Kurtis awoke, stiff and aching all over from his night on the train seat. He opened his eyes and looked up. The sun was blinding, forcing him to turn away, eyes squeezed shut again. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Kurtis began looking around the area in which he had just spent the night, one hand raised, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. Broken glass, needles and wrappers littered the floor, and wads of chewing gum were stuck to the windows, clearly holding them in their frames. Kurtis slowly got to his feet, wincing as his sore muscles began to work, and started to walk towards the exit, crushing the occasional glass bottle or cola can underneath his heavy boots. Once outside, Kurtis noticed that most of the Hobos he had seen last night had dispatched elsewhere, with one or two remaining behind to defend their pitch. Locating the door he had used to enter last night, Kurtis made his way back towards Le Serpent Rouge.  
"Hey!" A male voice hailed him as he passed. Rolling his eyes, Kurtis stopped and turned around to see who had just shouted. A shady looking Frenchman stood alone, smoking a cigarette. Pale-faced and skinny, Kurtis couldn't help but be reminded of Pierre.  
"What?" He asked, rather snappily.  
"Looking for anything special, sir?" The man asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Because I might be able to help you there." Kurtis eyed the baseball cap, T-shirt and the sleeveless jacket, and came to the conclusion that this man was definately not to be trusted.  
"Well I'm not. Thanks for the offer anyway." He turned to go.  
"You sure? I might have something which will tickle your fancy, so to speak." The man pressed on.  
"No really. I'm fine."  
"How about..."  
"No thanks." Kurtis said, glaring icily at the man. "I'm fine." He repeated, as he started to move again.  
"Hey, you be careful out there." The man called out to him as Kurtis slipped off.  
"Don't worry....I will." He muttered darkly to himself. Back out on the street near the club, once again, Janice was no where to be seen. "Too early for clients presumably." Kurtis thought. His stomach growled loudly, as it had been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd last eaten, and that being at Pierre's cafe. With satisfying his hunger firmly on his mind, Kurtis pushed the visit to the Louvre down to second on his 'to do' list. He headed off down towards the Pawn Shop, in search of another diner- Kurtis was determined to stay well away from Cafe Metro and the area surrounding it incase he should run into anyone with authority. On passing Renne's Pawn Shop, he noticed something a little....different about it. The doorframe was blackened and charred, and the corridor inside was reduced to rubble. Kurtis frowned. "What the hell happened here?" He mused, as he drew closer to what was left of the Pawn Shop. Kurtis stepped inside and began to take a look around, but hastily returned ouside when clouds of dust fell from the ceiling, parts of it crumbling before his very eyes. Deciding that he had spent enough time snooping around places where he shouldn't be, Kurtis hopped over the barrier barring the way to the main street. A loud crashing sound told him that the ceiling in the Pawn Shop had finally given way.  
Around fifteen minutes later, Kurtis had found himself a cafe and was sat at a table, a steaming cup of coffee and a croissant in front of him, an English newpaper in one hand.  
'MONSTRUM KILLER CLAIMS NEW VICTIM' The newspaper headline screamed in big, bold letters. 'Margot Carvier, 62, is the lastest person to have fallen victim to the Monstrum's brutal killing methods......'  
"So that's the Carvier woman who worked at the Louvre..." Kurtis muttered to himself, deep in thought. "In charge of some Archeological Dig....Hmmm....Maybe she'll have something on the Obscura paintings stored away in her office..." He folded the paper in half and threw it gently back onto the table, grabbing the coffee cup and taking a swig of the thick, black liquid. He could feel the caffine working into his bloodstream, giving him a sudden burst of energy. Kurtis downed the rest of the coffee, threw a few Euros onto the table and left the cafe, the croissant lying half finished on the plate.  
Kurtis decided to take his time to get to the Louvre. It wasn't such a good idea to storm in there and start rooting through Carvier's office when all the workers were present. He didn't want to draw any more unneccessary attention to himself, and he certainly didn't want to spend the night in a jail cell. So until dark arrived, Kurtis took to wandering the streets of Paris, browsing the shop windows, watching the endless news reports on the Monstrum killing flashing up on the TV screens as he passed. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------  
By about four thirty, the sky was turning a deep blue and the temperature dropped to below ten degrees celcius as the sun began to disappear once more. Kurtis shivered, his breath rising up in clouds in front of him. "Time to get to the Louvre." He thought. "At least it'll be warm in there." He used the same dusty path he took to get to the shipyard, keeping to the shadows to remain unnoticed. There was a bridge which crossed to the other side of the river near there- He would use it to go the same way Ms. Croft had the day before. It was more discreet than using the front entrance, which would be guarded by sentries and swarming with tourists leaving the museum- Kurtis wasn't about to risk his freedom for an easy entrance.  
As he passed the wrought iron gates to the shipyard, he saw the watchman from the night before on the prowl, looking for any unwanted persons on the premises. He quickened to a jog and trotted off around the corner, hoping he hadn't been spotted. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The watchman stalked up and down the yard, absent-mindedly swinging his keys, thinking. He paused and listened for a few moments. Nothing. Shrugging, Hulot went back to prowling the dock, keys clinking together each time he raised his right leg. He had had the most bizarre dream, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. Frowning a little, Hulot returned to his chair and sat puzzling over it. He was at work, in his chair, he could recall that much. He closed his eyes tightly and tried as hard as he could to recollect the dream. There was a man sneaking around the yard. A tall man, with dark hair, a gun at his side. It was all coming back to Hulot now. He remembered shouting something at the man, and him coming over, but after that, nothing. Hulot opened his eyes. The light was rapidly fading, and all the street lights were beginning to glow a dull red. He stretched and ran his fingers through his hair. Hulot winced as his fingers met a bruise which had appeared on the back of his head. "Funny...." He thought. "I wonder how I got that...." Furrowing his brow once more, Hulot shuffled in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and settled down for a sleep. A few moments later, however, the sound of feet retreating at great speed aroused him from his slumber. Hulot sat bolt upright and whipped out his torch. He scanned the yard, but saw nothing. He got to his feet and crept around the yard, looking for the source of the noise. He reached the mooring site and used his torch to peer into the gloom on the other side of the yard. Drawing an arc with it, he just managed to catch a booted foot disappearing around the corner on the opposite side of the dock. Hulot stopped. That boot looked oddly familiar. It was like one of the boots the man in his dream was wearing. He shook his head. He was getting tired, so he was imagining things. Wearily, Hulot returned to his seat, sat down and closed his eyes. Within minutes, he was softly snoring. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Kurtis found himself at the entrance to the Louvre storm drains, the stench of sewage reached his nose. Eyeing the "matter" which floated on the surface of the repulsive green coloured water with some caution, Kurtis lowered himself into the sewage, and waded towards the rotting wooden beam at the other side of the pool with extreme caution. Once again, rats squeaked and scuttled in the darkness, rather like they did at Bouchard's underground hideout. Once out of the pool, Kurtis made his way towards the great open area at the end of the tunnel. Pulling the rather tired looking map of the Storm Drains from his back pocket, Kurtis consulted it, looking up and down the cavernous area, trying to find the most suitable way into the Louvre. After spending five minutes studying the map, Kurtis came to the conclusion that the only way to get to the Louvre was, unfortunantly, to go the wet way. Stepping up to the edge of the deep abyss, he jumped, and executed a perfect dive, right into the heart of the black pool.  
After dragging himself through the murky depths, Kurtis surfaced in a smallish room, filled with scrap metal. Shivering somewhat, Kurtis gazed around the room, trying to find a way onto the steel platform above the water. A beaten-looking yellow mesh climbed crookedly upwards and joined with the platform. Kurtis pulled himself towards it, grabbed the mesh with both hands and heaved himself onto it, and began to climb, his feet slipping occasionally as the soles of his boots made contact with the metal. Once at the top, he set about finding the boiler room, and with the help of a few explosives, he could blast his way into the lower areas of the Louvre.  
He leapt into the round entrance at the end of the platform, and crawled underneath the gap in the bars blocking anything from progressing any further down the tunnel. As he neared the entrance to the boiler room, he paused, sniffing the air. The strong, acrid smell of burning oil reached his nose. Cautiously, Kurtis edged towards the slope leading to the boiler room, took one last look back at the way he had just come before placing a foot onto the slope and sliding, snowboard style, to the bottom. From his new lofty position above the boiler room, he could make out the distinctive flickering of the flames on the water's surface. "I'd better be careful. Ms. Croft has obviously already blown the boiler room wall to Kingdom come, and I don't wish to get fried whilst attempting to get inside." Checking that there were no flames below his route to the boiler room floor, he began to climb down the beaten old ladder to the metal floor underneath. Once on the walkway, Kurtis carefully made his way towards the gigantic hole in the wall, hopping over the odd flames rising from the water below. Somewhat pleased with his progress, Kurtis stepped over the pile of rubble and onto the shiny, cold floor of the lower areas of the Louvre. He was in. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Well....It's clean..." Kurtis thought as he made his way up the marble staircase. "A little too clean....." It was as silent as the grave inside except for the sound of boots on marble, and the humming of something electrical. He would need to be careful of security cameras and any Museum guards who may be lurking around, but, as Lara had already used this route, he was hoping that she had managed to clear out most of the guards for him. Slipping past the angry red glare of a camera at the top of the first set of stairs, Kurtis made his way up the second, passing the bullet ridden bodies of two guards who had obviously annoyed Miss Croft with their presence. "Must remember to thank her next time we meet." Kurtis said to himself in what sounded like a mixture of sarcasm and sincerity. Rounding the corner, Kurtis found himself facing some double doors which probably led to one of the museum's many galleries. A funny green coloured gas was seeping through the gaps underneath and inbetween the two doors. Kurtis frowned. "Gas?" He asked the silence around him. "But how....?" Deciding that now wasn't the time to hang around waiting for the answer to his question, Kurtis took a last breath of clean air before pushing the double doors open and sprinting through the gallery which clearly used to have security beams running around it until the gas arrived, deactivating them. He took several more turns through different galleries, passing the bodies of suited soldiers whom only Lara could have disposed of and museum guards who had choaked to death on the gas.  
Upon reaching a corridor which wasn't filled with toxic green gas, Kurtis paused, regaining his breath, filling his lungs with oxygen. He glanced at the staircase ahead of him. "And the office should be up there somewhere." Willing his tired limbs to work, Kurtis dashed up the staircase, only to find himself faced with another door with the same green gas trapped behind it. Using the same precedure as before, he flung the door open and examined each of the rooms on the right hand side in turn, trying to find Madame Carvier's office. He eventually found it, after exploring many research rooms, now equipped with a respirator he had found in one of the offices. Pushing the door open, he made his way towards her desk and began sorting through the many papers which littered it's surface, only to find nothing of interest. Undeterred, he checked the computer next, opening file after file, trying to catch a glimpse of something which may have reference to Eckhardt and the Obscura paintings. Fortunantly, he didn't have to search hard. With one click of the mouse, a whole page filled with Obscura details appeared on the screen before him.  
"The blood sign or Sanglyph....." Kurtis read, his eyes flickering across the blue screen. "Brother Obscura's engravings.....Pieter van Eckhardt.....Could he be a relation of this present day Eckhardt? Or....." Kurtis straightened up and turned towards the door. "Or could it somehow be the same Eckhardt........?" ------------------------------------------------------------------------  
As the respirator was beginning to run low and the gas had not yet reached this particular area of the Louvre yet, Kurtis pulled it off and threw it to the floor. He turned the corner and found himself looking at the back of Ms. Croft. Smirking a little, he drew his Chirugai which immediately sprang to life at his touch. It rose out of his hand and tore towards Lara at great speed. She turned, the Chirugai missing her by inches, to find noone there. Confused, she remained where she was, which created the perfect opportunity for Kurtis to launch his ambush. Creeping out from his hiding place, gun drawn, he walked towards Lara, who was now aware that someone else was present. Just as she began to turn around, Kurtis pressed the barrel of the gun to her head, stopping her in her tracks. Slowly, Kurtis went about disarming her, grabbing each gun and throwing them to the floor. Lara finally broke free of his clutches, and they both stood, eye to eye, Lara's fists clenched, Kurtis's Boran X trained on her forehead. He leant closer into her, staring right into her eyes and remained like this for some time. Smiling rather nastily, Kurtis drew back and reclaimed the Chirugai from the wall behind Lara's head. Nodding at her, Kurtis turned and sprinted towards the opposite end of the room, just as the heavy figure of Marten Gundersen and one of his armoured soldiers prepared to enter the room from a parallel door. Shaking herself awake, Lara took off after Kurtis. The armoured soldier took aim and fired dozens of bullets at her retreating figure.  
"After her!" The burly Czech snarled as he and the soldier began to follow Lara, and, unknowingly, Kurtis, Gundersen's heavy footfalls resounding through the corridors.  
  
Eh. I hope you liked. I was trying really hard to get everything as accurate as possible, i.e. The route through the Louvre, but I found that it wasn't that simple, so I had to improvise a little. Heh. R&R please. ^_~ 


	5. Escaping Paris

Author disclaimer: Nope. Kurtis, Lara, Gundersen and the guards aren't mine, where's the surprise in that?  
  
Haha! Finally! You've been waiting for this chapter for months (Literally!!), so I REALLY hope this doesn't disappoint. :) I warn you, I am a little rusty when it comes to writing, but you have GCSEs to thank for that. ¬_¬ I'll try make this long for you guys to make up for it. ^_^ Enjoy...  
  
Chapter 5: A chase through the Louvre, and a visit to Prague.  
  
Kurtis sprinted through the corridors of the Louvre, his Chirugai rhythmically bumping his right leg as he did so. He could hear Lara behind him, her boots making a clicking noise whenever they came into contact with the wooden flooring. Kurtis could also hear the loud shouts of someone else, their heavily accented voice echoing through the mezzazine corridors. He didn't know who this person was, but then again, he had a gut instinct that he didn't want to stick around and find out either. Looking up, he saw that there was an entrance with a huge brass gong hanging above it, and a sudden brainwave struck him. Grabbing the Chirugai, he threw it into the air, where it promptly sprang to life, whirring and spinning towards the chains which held the gong in place. A few seconds later, the chains had snapped, and the gong had landed on the floor with a crash. Diving through the doorway, Kurtis paused, freeing his mind, and concentrating hard on the gong. As he raised his arms, the gong proceeded to roll across the gap.  
Lara, who had noticed what was going on, put on an extra burst of speed, and slipped through the narrowing gap, unharmed. The guard who had been following her however, did not. He reached the door just as the gong had almost covered the entrance, and attempted to squeeze through. The sickening crunch of human bones followed this act of stupidity, and the guard slumped, lifeless, onto the gong. Marten Gundersen roared like an injured animal, and brought his fist crashing down onto the gong. Kurtis peered over the guard's head at him. The Czech narrowed his eyes and scowled at Kurtis, before motioning to the remaining guard and stalking off down the corridor, coat swishing behind him. Turning his attention back to Lara, he recalled the Chirugai, took a couple of steps backwards, keeping his eyes fixed upon the brunette before sprinting away again. Lara, who was temporarily stunned by the events, snapped out of it and started to pursue Kurtis once more. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"This place goes on forever." Kurtis thought, as the blood pounded through his veins, making his temples throb. "Gotta find a way out of here." It seemed as if was luck was on his side, because when he rounded what seemed like the hundredth corner, there was an open doorway to his right which would lead him right out of the museum. Sliding to a halt at the top of the staircase, Kurtis peered over the railings to the ground below. It was quite a drop to the dusty concrete- at least ten feet or so. Perching himself on the railings, he waited until Lara was in view. Eventually, she arrived. Kurtis smirked, gave her a little wave and performed a backwards somersault off the railings.  
He landed, cat-like, on the floor a few moments later. Kurtis looked up at Lara, who wore a horrified expression on her face, and smirked. Scowling, Lara hurled herself towards the stairs and proceeded to decend them as fast as her legs would carry her. Upon seeing her do this, Kurtis once again took flight, and sprinted in the general direction of the street. He slowed to a walk, positive that he'd finally shaken Lara off. Pausing, he looked back over his shoulder. Nothing. Kurtis smiled to himself and started to walk again, unaware that someone was watching him closely from behind the dumpster. Stealthily, the person crept up on Kurtis, raised the butt of their gun and smashed him in the back of the head. Kurtis swayed for a moment before crashing to the ground, out cold. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Moaning, Kurtis sat up, one hand clasped to the back of his head where he had been hit. His eyes slid in and out of focus rapidly as he tried to stand, and decided to remain seated on the cold, damp concrete for the time being. Narrowing his eyes, Kurtis surveyed the scene, trying to find his attacker, and found nothing, except Lara, who was lying next to him, who appeared to have suffered the same fate as himself. Pulling himself together, Kurtis got shakily to his feet, and started to shuffle towards the backstreet beside the Louvre, not wanting to be around when Ms. Croft awoke from her "knocking out", which would mean he would run the risk of being asked difficult questions he did not particularly want to answer at this moment in time.  
Stumbling out onto the main street, Kurtis looked up into the blackened sky littered with tiny stars. "Next, Prague." He glanced at the wall beside him which was plastered with posters of all kinds, but one in particular stood out from the rest. Pierre's face was on it, and so was a smaller picture of his bike....Kurtis had forgotten about that completely. He didn't know what the French underneath it meant, but he got the gist of it. He was a wanted man, although they did not know it was him at the moment, it was only a matter of time before they had sufficiant evidence which would lead them to him...  
He had to get to Prague as soon as possible, and leave this foul city behind him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he dived into the nearest subway station, and began examining the maps to find the best route to the main station. When he found the appropriate line to take, Kurtis strolled onto the platform, and waited for the right tube-train amongst the drunkards and the homeless. One man in particular was causing a disturbance on the almost dead platform, waving a beer bottle in the air and shouting obscenities in French at the top of his lungs. Kurtis was only too glad when the 167 trundled down the tunnel, lights blazing. Hopping onto the stuffy tube was a sharp contrast from waiting on the freezing concrete, but Kurtis was greatful for the warmth.  
The carriage was empty except for an oldish man with a bowler hat perched on his head. The overpowering smell of cigars and whisky reached Kurtis' nose, forcing the American to sit as far away from him as possible. Seating himself near the window, Kurtis stared out into the pitch black, waiting.  
About fifteen minutes later, Kurtis emerged from the subway near to the main station to find that the heavens had opened and were pouring icy droplets onto passers by. Dashing out into the open, Kurtis sprinted for the entrance, rain and wind beating at his face and body. By the time he had gotten inside, he was drenched to the skin. Shivering, Kurtis stepped up to the ticket machine, pushed the appropriate number of coins into the slot and retreived the ticket. Crossing the floor, he went up the stairs and stepped onto platform 5. The sleeper train was ready and waiting, so it was a matter of flashing the ticket to the man on duty and boarding the scarlet snake-like vehicle. Kurtis found himself a comfortable enough spot for him to settle down and get some shut-eye without being disturbed by any 'jolly' folk. He stretched out, his mind wandering. An image of a green motorcycle flashed into his mind, and he sighed. He loved that bike. but it wasn't worth risking his freedom to go and collect. Closing his eyes, Kurtis tried to put the events of the past three days behind him.  
Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber, haunted by pale-faced, skinny Frenchmen....... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The next morning, he awoke to the sun streaming in through the clear glass window. A woman appeared at his side, offering him coffee, which he gladly accepted. Gulping down the caffine-enriched liquid, Kurtis reached for the latest newspaper and started to flick through it, looking for any sign of Monstrum activity. "Mathias Vasily..." Kurtis muttered, "The art dealer. Linked with Eckhardt." He folded the paper and slung it onto the table.  
The woman appeared at his side again.  
"Not long to Prague." She said in somewhat broken English. Kurtis nodded a thanks, and turned to stare out the window at the view.  
Approximately twenty minutes later, the train pulled into the central station in Prague. Kurtis stepped off the sleeper onto the platform and made his way towards a map of the city. Even after close inspection, Kurtis was none the wiser of where he needed to go to even begin searching for Eckhardt's whereabouts. The map was covered with stickers and Czech characters sprawled across the face of it. Maybe there was someone around who'd know where to point him. Sweeping out of the station, Kurtis stepped out into the street, snow covering his boots. "Great." He thought bitterly. "Out of one dark city and into another." Brushing the flakes of snow which had fallen into his eyes, he trudged off in search of the Vasily place. Perhaps there was something there which would point him to Eckhardt....  
  
Ok. It was pretty uneventful, but I had to find a way to get him to Prague from Paris, and I tried to make it more interesting than it might have been. ¬_¬ Tried being the keyword here. *sigh* Next, the Vasily place, Luddick (^_^) and the Strahov. Could be very, very interesting...R&R people. 


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